Susan Sleeman - No Way Out

She pulled up and fell on her stomach, dragging in huge gulps of air.

“Not a good night for a run,” he said as calmly as he could, bracing his legs against the rocks should she decide to attack and dislodge him from his perch.

She rolled and came to her knees, her arms outstretched in a defensive posture.

“Relax,” he added. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

“You can trust me,” he said from his position on the ledge. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m renting a house up the beach, and I came out to watch the storm.”

She still didn’t back away, but she glanced to her right before flattening herself on the rock again. He looked down the beach in the direction she’d checked and spotted two bulky figures heading their way. She was being chased. And now she’d put him in danger, too.

He slowly eased to his knees, keeping his head low and sliding onto the rock next to her. She turned her head and locked eyes with him.

“What’re you doing?” she hissed.

“I was a sitting duck on that ledge,” he whispered back. With no more than twelve inches between them, he could finally get a good look at her face. Fine boned. High cheeks and forehead. Went well with the lithe figure he saw running. And despite her mad dash down the beach, a hint of her sweet perfume lingered. So sweet he almost forgot that two men were coming after her. Almost.

“Care to fill me in on what’s going on here?” he asked.

She lay motionless for a moment before she took in a deep breath. “No time. The men after me are killers.”

“Are they trying to kill you?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.” She sounded so sad that it broke his heart. Something he didn’t think it was capable of doing anymore. “I overheard them talking about illegal activities they’re involved in. Now I think they want to kill me so I can’t tell anyone what I heard.”

Male voices mixed with the wind. They were coming closer. He held his finger to his lips but took the time to search her face for any duplicity. All he saw besides large eyes ringed with long lashes was fear. Raw and fresh. Even if she wasn’t telling him the truth about what had happened, it was clear she was afraid of these men.

“I don’t see anyone, Gibson,” a deep voice rumbled from below. “We don’t even know if the person came down to the beach. It’s freaking cold out here, and we should call it quits.”

“Quit being such a baby.” The second man’s voice was higher, more nasal.

The woman started shivering, and her lips quivered. Cole wore a slicker over a thick parka, but her lightweight jacket was plastered against her body. He wanted to draw her against him for warmth, but he couldn’t risk her decking him and signaling their location to the men below.

“Maybe Saunders was wrong and no one heard us.”

“You want to be the one to tell him that?” That high voice went even higher.

The other guy snorted. “Not if I want to live.”

“That’s what I figured. C’mon. We’ll keep going. If we don’t find someone in thirty minutes we’ll quit.”

Cole would give the men time to move out of hearing distance and then he’d ask her for details to see how he could be of assistance.

She started moving as if she intended to climb over him and down to the beach.

“Not yet.” Cole laid a restraining hand on her back. “We’ll wait until they’ve put some distance between us.”

“We?” Her forehead furrowed and her whole body shook from the cold.

“You need help, and I can provide it.”

“I don’t even know you.” It took a strong woman to be this chilled and tired and refuse help. Or a foolish one.

“Then let’s remedy that.” He turned on his side and offered his hand. “Cole Justice. Former U.S. Marshal and Oregon National Guard,” he said, hoping she’d realize he was one of the good guys.

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Usually this is when you shake hands and give me your name.” He smiled to try to ease her obvious concern, but it didn’t work. She kept peering at him. “Okay. So you don’t want me to know who you are. Can you at least give me a first name?”

“Alyssa,” she said between tremors.

A perfectly elegant name for a woman who he figured would live up to it, if she was dry and not lying on a slimy rock with the winds and rain from the Pacific Ocean pummeling her body.

“Do you have somewhere safe to go?” he asked.

“No.”

“We can go to my house until you figure out what to do.”

“Not hardly.”

“Look, I’m the last guy who’d tell a woman to go home with a strange man, but I really am one of the good guys. Plus my sister is staying with me so we won’t be alone.” He could see she was starting to consider it. “You can dry off and warm up then leave as soon as you have a plan.”

“I’m all for getting off the beach until these guys take off, but I’m not stepping inside the door until I see this sister.” He loved the timbre of her voice, strong and determined as if nothing could best her.

“Deal,” he said. “Let me make sure they’ve moved far enough up the beach, then we can leave.” He slid on his belly across the rock and, before glancing over the edge, he put his hand on his gun in case he needed to draw. The men were mere shadows moving away from them. He looked back at Alyssa and pushed up to his knees. “Are you good to get down on your own?”

She sat up and nodded, but she was shivering violently now. He slipped out of his slicker and parka and handed them to her. “These should help.”

“No, they’re yours.”

“Take them,” he insisted and dropped them into her hands.

She reluctantly slipped into jackets twice her size and clutched the excess fabric around her waist.

“I’ll go first to be sure we’re still alone.” He didn’t wait for her agreement but lowered his body over the edge and descended as quickly as he could without endangering his life.

She was on her way down before he hit the ground. Hand on his weapon, he quickly checked the other side of the rock to be sure they were alone. He wanted to draw his gun, but he figured Alyssa would run from him if she knew he was armed. Most people didn’t understand that it was normal for law enforcement officers, even former or retired officers, to carry all the time.

He cleared the side of the rock and a gust of wind hit him full on, soaking him anew. The storm was picking up. They had to get a move on. He ran back to the rocks and waited for Alyssa. About five feet above him, she missed a foothold and fell backward. No scream, no flailing, just a soft free-fall into his arms that strained with his catch.

Her eyes were wide open with the same fear in the depths but still in control. She was the coolest woman he’d ever met. As if nothing fazed her.

“Thank you,” she said and pushed out of his hold. “We should go.”

The wind howled around the rock, spitting seawater and sand. When they stepped into the open she’d have a hard time without support, but he’d wait for her to ask for his help.

“This way.” He started up the beach, the wet sand packing nicely under his feet and making the going easier. He kept looking back to check on her. She was falling behind. He slowed to let her catch up. “We’d make better time if you’d hold on to me to keep the wind from carrying you off course.”

She studied him a moment then gave a clipped nod and cautiously approached him. He lifted his arm and she slipped under it. A perfect fit, he couldn’t help but think.

She was still shivering so he pulled her tighter against his body. She wrapped an arm around his waist and they trudged up the beach.